


If The Bird Doesn't Sing

by theroadkillcafe



Category: Naruto
Genre: Other, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2018-09-02 03:33:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8649874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theroadkillcafe/pseuds/theroadkillcafe
Summary: …then you should leave the poor thing alone. Unfortunately for the bird, in the Warring Clans era, everyone has to try to bend it to their will. Including me. SI fic





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I started this on a whim, after tossing around a few ideas with crowind and joking about Madara raising tiny children. This will be slightly cracky (but not completely) as a result, so please don’t take it too seriously. That said, this fic is majorly on the backburner while I focus most of my attention on my other two WIPs, CoT and TSR. Expect slow updates.
> 
> Thanks to crowind for her editing and to phoenixyfriend for acting as my sound board.

My first thought when I was reborn was _‘This is bullshit.’_

My second thought, upon seeing my apparently new father’s face peering over someone’s shoulder at me, was _‘This is motherfucking bullshit.’_

 

The resulting surge of anger tempted me to me scream, so that’s what I did, right in the doctor’s –or would it be midwife?- face. She fumbled for a moment when confronted with my brand new, powerful lungs, before eagerly passing me over to the young man in the room.

 

My tiny baby lungs exhausted themselves and I contemplated drawing another large breath for another scream to properly express just how pissed I was exactly, when I paused. I knew from experience that having a baby scream next to your ear wasn’t pleasant, and no matter how much of a jackass he might or might not be, I was pretty sure the guy didn’t deserve that.

 

The woman fluttered and exclaimed how I must know my father was holding me while he stared with a moronic, wondering look on his face. I mean, yeah, it was kind of sweet, but it didn’t change the fact it made him look sort of stupid. The woman cooed a little bit more and I struggled not to roll my eyes.

 

_‘Fucking bullshit.’_

 

* * *

 

 

Izuna didn’t know much about children. The ones he looked after when their parents were away tended to be a little older than his newborn, at the very least capable of some kind of verbal communication if not complete sentences and were hell to watch because they had the tendency to toddle off the moment he took his eyes off them. But Izuna liked to think he was at least okay with children, better than Madara at least, though it wasn’t hard to manage that much, and that he knew at least _something_ about them, and that something was that children were generally cheerful. Which is how Izuna came to the conclusion that he had somehow come into possession of the grumpiest baby he had ever met.

 

Himiko was well behaved. She rarely fussed or cried, and only whimpered quietly when she was hungry or needed to be changed. It was completely opposite to what Izuna had anticipated, particularly on the day she was born and she had screeched like a thing possessed in the midwife’s arms. But after that she had been quite an agreeable baby, even in Madara’s clumsy hands.

 

And yet oddly enough, she never giggled or laughed, and instead seemed to have a permanent scowl on her face. Izuna hadn’t even known that babies _could_ scowl and here was his girl with the fiercest expression he had ever seen on a child’s face. She looked highly offended at all times but she was particularly grumpy when she needed to be fed or cleaned up.

 

“It’s because she wants to be clean, like a _lady_ ,” Kitashi told him one day, cooing at Himiko in her arms. Izuna hovered behind his wife to peer down at Himiko, who was predictably still scowling.

 

His brow furrowed. “But we keep her clean all the time. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her smile.” Could three week old babies smile? Or were their facial muscles not developed enough yet? Himiko seemed to master frowning well enough.

 

Kitashi rolled her eyes at him. “She’ll smile when she’s good and ready to, and not a moment before. Besides, it could be worse. You know, Koyane’s wife Wakana was telling me that little Kagami cries all the time and nothing they do seems to help. Hime-chan probably just takes after your side of the family.” She went back to making soft kissy noises at Himiko. The baby still looked wholly unimpressed.

 

It was too soon to tell which parent Himiko would most resemble, what with her face still looking slightly squashed. But Izuna was proud to note that her hair was already starting to gently spike in the back much like his own. Of course, with his luck, Himiko would inherit Kitashi’s height and end up taller than him. Izuna tried not to think of the possibility of ending up like his father and dying before he had the chance to see his children fully grown.

 

There were other ways that Himiko was odd, to put it mildly. Her eyes had the ability to unerringly focus on and track any object of interest, which was usually him or Madara, when his older brother deigned to be caught in the same room as Himiko. And yet, bright colors or toys or even the old, handmade baby mobile failed to attract her attention. Izuna privately felt she didn’t just look at things, she watched them.

 

Himiko also cycled between being intensely curious about Kitashi to ignoring her outright, whereas by comparison, she was constantly fascinated with Izuna and Madara. The rest of the clan members she also ignored. While Himiko generally spent quite a bit of her time asleep, she seemed to have a sense of when someone that wasn’t either her parents or her uncle was holding her, and refused to even open her eyes. Yet Madara’s anxious handling of her was granted the same curious and intelligent blinking that Izuna received.

 

“I wonder if I must have done something wrong, or if Himiko can sense that I will not be a good mother,” Kitashi confessed to him one night. Himiko lay nestled between them in the futon while Kitashi stroked her hair slowly, her expression melancholic. It had been another day where Himiko had steadfastly ignored Kitashi and instead had only blinked and scowled at Izuna. Privately, Izuna wasn’t sure if it was that much better to have his daughter’s apparently disdainful regard.

 

“I doubt it’s like that,” Izuna said. It wasn’t as if Himiko was old enough to really develop her own opinions yet. But Izuna also knew that if he said that to Kitashi that he would get a lecture about how just because babies were young and tiny didn’t mean they didn’t have their own thoughts and feelings.

 

Kitashi frowned down at Himiko who was starting to look a bit sleepy. “Izuna, I think Himiko has shown more interest in Madara’s _hair_ than she’s shown for me.”

 

“Well, it is a lot of hair, isn’t it? Maybe she thinks he hides toys in it for her or something.” It was an unfortunate fact that Madara’s hair, long and thick as it was, was also an untameable mass, no matter how often he dragged a brush or comb through it. It still stubbornly rose into spikes and it was only its heavy weight that kept it as flat as Madara had managed to get it. Izuna’s mane was only marginally more manageable.

 

“Don’t be stupid Izuna, you know exactly what I’m talking about.” The look Kitashi gave him could’ve pierced armor.

 

“I don’t know what you want me to do. It’s not like I can fix it. I can’t convince Himiko to like you or something,” said Izuna. He shifted so he could stare Himiko in the face.

 

“Hey. Hey, Himiko-chan. You’re making mommy upset, you know? She loves you a lot, so stop ignoring her.” Izuna couldn’t quite keep the faint trace of mockery out of his voice despite his own wish for Himiko to do something besides frown.

 

Kitashi punched Izuna in the shoulder. “You jackass. Like that’s going to do anything,” she said. Izuna rubbed his shoulder and leaned back to look at Kitashi again, his lips quirking into a smile.

 

“I thought we weren’t supposed to swear around the baby.”

 

“I was provoked,” Kitashi sniffed.

 

Izuna scooted closer, careful not to crush Himiko or jostle her too much. “Everything is going to be fine. You’re not going to be a bad mom, and Himiko will love you and hang on every word you say.”  Kitashi’s face softened.

 

“Except for when I scold her and she goes running to you to get out of trouble,” she said.

 

“I would never undermine your authority-“

 

“Izuna, she hasn’t even said a word yet and you already adore her. Just yesterday you were telling Hikaku that she was the smartest baby the Uchiha have ever recorded.”

 

Izuna crossed his arms sulkily. “I would scold Himiko if she needed it,” he grumbled. “Besides, it’s Madara that’s besotted with her.”

 

“Oh, yes, the man that runs in terror every time you try to pass him his niece. Does that mean Himiko is going to go to Madara when she wants to be spoiled then?” Kitashi began to grin.

 

“Of course,” Izuna answered. A smile began to overtake his face as well. “Gods, can you imagine it? Madara with children?” Izuna snorted and covered his eyes as an image of Himiko tugging on Madara’s clothes while he tried to escape sprang to mind. He snickered.

 

“Well, there is a reason why you’re the one married and he’s not,” Kitashi said dryly.

 

“You mean because his face scares away all the women or because he’s awful with children younger than ten?” Izuna asked cheekily.

 

“I wouldn’t be so smug. Your face isn’t much better,” Kitashi replied.

 

“You married me for my face.”

 

“Are you sure about that?” Kitashi arched her brows at him.

 

“Mm. My body and my skills as a superior shinobi were also factors in your decision,” he said seriously.

 

Kitashi burst into laughter. “You are so full of shit. Did you forget the part where you were begging me to say yes because you didn’t want Madara to set up an omiai with someone for you?”

 

“He tried to tell me that seventeen was too young to decide who could be my wife!” Izuna protested. “Who else should it have been except my best friend? Just because _he_ didn’t want to get married and raise his own heirs…” Izuna tsked.

 

“The way I see it, it was a perfect set up for me. My clan head’s brother, desperate for a wife…all I had to do was bat my eyelashes and I became one of the most influential women in the clan,” Kitashi teased. She leaned in close and pushed her lips into an exaggerated sultry pout.

 

“Of course. Now you can stay at home and write waka poetry all day and gossip like one of those court princesses we guard.”

 

Izuna held Kitashi’s gaze with mock seriousness until they both started to laugh. The luxurious excess of the nobility seemed absurd to both of them, and it was preposterous to imagine Kitashi dressed in one of the heavy junihitoe kimono or her hair long enough to actually pull into an elaborate chignon.

 

“O great Kitashi-hime, I bow before your beauty and grace.” Izuna’s voice was barely coherent through his snickers.

 

Kitashi giggled. “Ah, but Izuna, this means that Himiko-chan is also a princess. And one day she will grow up and be so popular that she will become the leader of our people.”

 

“Well, that is why we named her Himiko.”

 

Kitashi’s mirth faded away, likely because her thoughts had returned to the earlier subject of Himiko’s disregard for her mother. Her fingers brushed down the small spikes in Himiko’s pitch black hair and drew Izuna’s attention to the fact that it seemed Himiko had at last fallen asleep.

 

“Don’t worry so much Kitashi. She’s going to love you. She’s probably like a cat or something, she just needs time to warm up to you first,” Izuna said. He yawned as a wave of exhaustion made itself known. For all that Himiko didn’t demand their attention the way other newborns sometimes did, taking care of her was tiring.

 

“I suppose so,” Kitashi replied uncertainly. She snuggled a little closer, her body still curled around Himiko.

 

It was of course the next day that Kitashi woke him with excitement, a grin splitting her face ear to ear, to show him the toothless smile of their daughter. Upon seeing his face Himiko cooed a little bit, nothing more than a long, unintelligible note of sound that nonetheless made Izuna begin to smile himself. Satisfied that Izuna had seen the proof of Himiko’s happiness, Kitashi drew her close to her chest again to make nonsensical noises at her. Himiko waited for each pause and then obligingly made sounds back, vowels of varying lengths and pitch that nonetheless managed to be quiet enough for even a shinobi’s sensitive ears.

 

And yet, Izuna felt it was suspicious that Himiko smiled the morning after Kitashi lamented that Himiko didn’t care for her. He found himself watching Himiko carefully after that, suspicious for any sign of more…oddness. It couldn’t be possible that she understood human language yet, could it? At the same time, Himiko still remained as discriminatory as ever. While she was content to make noises to herself and her immediate family, everyone outside of the three most prevalent adults in her life were unable to earn a smile or one of her coos.

 

All too soon, reality returned. Izuna couldn’t stay off the front lines indefinitely. Madara had probably given him too much time away as it was, for all that Izuna took over much of Madara’s paperwork in return during his absence from missions. Likewise, Kitashi was also back to a regular training schedule to get back her physical form. She was the only currently mission active kunoichi the clan had, the others opting to remain as part of the home guard. Kitashi’s incredible talent and skill allowed her to have her choice to either be a home guard kunoichi or take missions and take part in the active warfare, and having chosen the latter, it was necessary that she remain in peak form.

 

Between the three of them it was unlikely Himiko was going to spend a significant time away from the people she seemed to like best. But Izuna knew that sooner or later someone else was going to be responsible for looking after her, no matter how short of a time period it was. So it was with great reluctance that Izuna began to take her out on short sojourns around the clan compound to get Himiko used to other people.

 

The first such outing was when Izuna and Madara had set aside some time to spar with each other in one of the open training spaces. They typically trained in one of the large, reserved training fields, on account of their skill level and devastating jutsu. It would be easy for them to accidentally maim unsuspecting clan members during a serious spar. But showy public spars were good for clan morale and one such display would fan the burgeoning spirit of the Uchiha, already alight from Himiko’s birth, into a blaze.

 

But first, Izuna had to make sure Himiko was comfortable. It wouldn’t do for her sensitive skin to get burned by the intense summer sun, or for her to be unable to nap because of the bright natural light. He fussed with her blankets and with the cover to the small carrier she was tucked in, trying to arrange it just so her face was safely covered but she could also enjoy some fresh air.

 

“Are you done yet?” Madara’s voice was a cross between bored and teasing. He leaned carelessly on the end of his kusarigama, already waiting for Izuna on the sparring field. “You should have Koyane hold her, that way she can properly watch her father getting his ass kicked.”

 

Koyane, who was standing nearby and looking exhausted, rubbed a hand over his eyes. “I’d really rather not. With my luck, she’d start screaming in my ear. Speaking of which, I really do not think it’s a good idea to have her so close to a spar.”

 

“Nonsense, Hikaku will watch after her,” Izuna nodded towards the youngest of them. “And if he doesn’t, I’ll skewer him.” Izuna straightened.

 

“That’s encouraging,” Hikaku said dryly. Nevertheless he edged closer until he was standing over Himiko’s carrier.

 

More Uchiha gathered, a low excited chatter sweeping through them. Izuna’s adrenaline was already rising in anticipation and he couldn’t help rolling his shoulders.

 

“Besides, it’s for the better if Himiko-chan can’t see. It would be a bit embarrassing to watch her own clan head eat dirt, even if it was to his younger brother.”

 

A smirk grew on Madara’s face at Izuna’s trash talk. “Oh, is that so? Let’s get started then.”

 

It was the only warning Izuna had before Madara was leaping at him with the kusarigama at the ready. Metal collided with a clang as he drew his sword and Izuna put his daughter out of his mind. Even for a spar, fighting Madara took all of his focus. Joking aside, Izuna also knew he could trust his kin to look after Himiko when he was unable to.

 

Izuna and Madara kept to their flashier elemental ninjutsu and complex taijutsu combinations rather than use more economical jutsu. The blooms of heat from their Katon caused sweat to bead along Izuna’s face and only experience kept him from flinching when sparks flew every time their weapons clashed. He distantly registered the cheers and shouts from the crowd, and feeling emboldened, twisted and abruptly switched sword hands to come at Madara from the opposite angle. Madara’s gleaming Sharingan had already predicted his movement and Izuna couldn’t help internally cursing his superior ability at prediction, unlike Izuna’s own with genjutsu.

 

An untold amount of time later, the two brothers separated, both panting and covered in rivulets of sweat. Izuna’s muscles ached in an almost pleasant fashion that spoke of a good work out. Excited as he had been to become a father, he had also missed being a shinobi. As he had that thought, Izuna suddenly remembered Himiko.

 

Izuna spun on his heel and strode over to where Hikaku and Koyane were standing. As he did so, his eyes caught on the now destroyed training ground. What had he been thinking, bringing a baby out here? There was no way she had been able to sleep or even relax through all the racket they had made. He had probably frightened her stiff. And sure enough, she was out of her carrier and in Hikaku’s arms.

 

“Is she all right?” Izuna asked, his voice gruff with worry. A visual inspection didn’t reveal anything; her face wasn’t even red. The only thing unusual was that Himiko was awake and aware while in a relative stranger’s arms. Her intense dark eyes were fixed on him and blinking in their usual slow manner.

 

“Believe it or not Izuna, she’s capable of surviving without your attention for more than an hour,” Madara said from behind him. Izuna ignored him and gestured for Himiko anyway.

 

“She fussed a little as soon as you two started fighting,” Hikaku explained as he handed her over. “As soon as I held her up so she could see, she calmed right back down again.”

 

Izuna settled her on his shoulder. He briefly wondered if the sweat dampening his clothes would irritate her, but she didn’t give any indication that it did.

 

Koyane sighed. “If only Kagami was as agreeable as Himiko. I would get a lot more sleep. I think I sleep more on missions these days than I do at home.”  

 

“Really, she was watching the entire time?”

 

Izuna felt a grin curl his mouth. “Here, see for yourself.” He held out Himiko to Madara, only for him to nearly leap backward. His wild hair combined with his wide eyes only made him look like a startled cat.

 

“No!” Madara shouted. Himiko stared at him.

 

“I, I mean, you keep your pit spawn away from me. She drools,” Madara said, flustered. Izuna snickered and pulled Himiko back to his chest again.

 

“Look Himiko-chan, at what a fierce warrior your uncle is. He’s scared of your drool.”

 

“I was just going to say,” Madara said loudly over Izuna, “that it’s unusual for a baby to not get whiny around loud noises and fighting, isn’t it? She must be natural born shinobi.”

 

Fear gripped Izuna for a moment and he almost missed Hikaku’s rejoinder. “Madara, both of her parents _are_ shinobi.”

 

He clutched Himiko a little tighter at the sudden realization that she could one day be a shinobi on a battlefield, far from where he could reach her, fighting for her life. Groups of child hunters roamed the country side all the time and assuming she made it to adulthood didn’t guarantee her a long life when the average life span of shinobi was thirty years and shrinking. “We’ll let her decide when she’s a little older if she wants to be a shinobi or a part of the home guard,” he said.

 

“Bah. No niece of mine will be a weak woman, waiting helplessly at home.” Madara folded his arms pointedly. “We can get her started on training as soon as she walks, just like every other Uchiha boy.”

 

“We’ll let her decide,” Izuna repeated. There had been plenty of births in the last few years; there wasn’t a need for Himiko to learn more than how to defend herself. Izuna rubbed her back.

 

She was going to stay safe.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Izuna pushed back half of Kitashi’s sleeping yukata, kissing bare skin as it was revealed to him. She moaned softly in his ear and leaned forward to return the favor when suddenly, Himiko burst into tears. Kitashi jerked backward in surprise and Izuna regretted ever thinking that Himiko was a good, quiet baby.

 

Kitashi tugged her yukata back into place and made to stand up. Izuna gestured for her to stay in bed. “You took care of her last time, I’ll see if I can get her to quiet back down. I think I’ll leave her with Madara tonight.”

 

“Are you sure?” she asked him.

 

“Madara doesn’t have a mission tomorrow, it’ll be fine. And Himiko should get used to sleeping with different people anyway. I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Izuna said over Himiko’s squalling.

 

He went over to the corner of the room where they had nestled her into a little bed while they were occupied with other things. She continued to wail incessantly until he scooped her up, at which point she abruptly fell silent except for her sniffling. Izuna wasn’t fooled. This wasn’t the first time Himiko had done this and he knew that if he put her back down now, she’d only start back up again.

 

Izuna rocked her slightly as he exited the bedroom. “You’re a better cockblocker than the most nosy grandma, Himiko-chan. Why don’t you stay asleep and let us have our alone time? I think you’d like having a younger sibling to boss around, and I’d sure like to relax a little bit.” Izuna’s tone soured on the last part.

 

All week Himiko’s crying had stopped Izuna and Kitashi from having sex. She seemed to have an uncanny ability to know when they were just starting. No matter if they changed the time of night or let Himiko stay in bed with them or moved her to a small bed of her own, Himiko would cry until they stopped. Quite frankly, Izuna was sick of it. She never cried any other time; it was as if she specifically didn’t want them to have sex with each other.

 

Izuna silently made his way to Madara’s room. He knocked quietly on the door frame and upon hearing his older brother murmur an answer, he entered the room. Inside, Madara hadn’t quite made it to bed yet. It had probably been another long night of him approving team rosters for patrols and missions.

 

“What is it, Izuna?” Madara’s eyes swept over him out of habit, and his brows rose slightly as he took in Himiko swaddled in Izuna’s arms.

 

Izuna held out his daughter to Madara, who took her with some confusion. “She’s sleeping with you tonight,” Izuna said shortly.

 

“And why’s that?” A hint of grouchiness entered his voice though Madara cradled her gently all the same.

 

“Because I haven’t had sex all week and I’d very much like to have some alone time with Kitashi. It’s okay if she doesn’t sleep right away, she’ll just sleep in late. Change her as soon as you wake up. I’ll be back in the morning to get her.” With that, Izuna turned on his heel to go back to bed.

 

“Hey wait, Izuna, you can’t just dump your brat on me—”

 

“She’s not just my brat, she’s also the closest thing you have to an heir until you either have a kid yourself or you take her so that I can get started on the next one for you. So just watch her tonight and a few other nights while I work on having a son or two for you,” Izuna replied.

 

Madara frowned at him sulkily. “But what am I even supposed to do with her?”

 

“Madara, she’s not that complicated. All she does is eat, shit, and sleep. Keep her clean and fed until I come back. She doesn’t cry unless I’m trying to get some, so she shouldn’t be upset at all.” Izuna narrowed his eyes at Madara. “Unless you do something to make her upset.”

 

“She better not act up or I’m putting her outside,” Madara grumbled. As Izuna left, he heard Madara start to mutter at Himiko quietly.

 

“Now don’t you cry or do anything to get me in trouble with Izuna, because even though he’s just a brat like you, I’m sure he’d manage to find a way to murder me if you cried even a little bit…”

 

Izuna smirked to himself. As if he was the only one who doted on Himiko. Pleased with his solution, he made his way back to his and Kitashi’s bedroom only to find when he got there that Kitashi had dozed off waiting for him. He sighed. Another night then.

 

* * *

Himiko was furious.

 

It was the tense muscles, fist clenching, stand on your toes sort of anger that made her long for a wall to put her fist through. Unfortunately for her, Himiko wasn’t even capable of standing on her own two feet unassisted, let alone property damage, unless one counted drooling on other people’s clothes. Himiko was petty enough to do just that.

 

In another life time, Himiko had been enjoying life. She had graduated from college, was accepted into graduate school, was looking forward to the upcoming academic year and her new job… and it all ended before it even really got started. Next thing she knew, she was opening her eyes to a world where they didn’t even have the courtesy to speak her language.

 

At least Himiko had gone to school for Japanese.

 

She might have been less pissed off if she had been reborn in the same world as her own previous one. It would have annoyed her to no end to have to redo her entire life, but she could work with that. Even do things differently, more efficiently. Maybe even be less of an asshole to people this time around.  But instead, Himiko was in fucking  _ Ninjaland _ , and as far as she knew, they didn’t have college in  _ Naruto _ .

 

Whoever stuck her here wasn’t too nice about it either. Himiko couldn’t have been born into an era of peace. No, she was born in an era of endless war, as evidenced by the fact that her father was Uchiha Izuna. She wasn’t just reborn, she was reborn as a shitty plot device for a bad fanfiction of a shounen manga in the middle of a massive, ongoing war.

 

And that wasn’t even the end of it. Himiko had been reborn, with everything that implied. She was stuck as a baby, and she magically had all the adult mental faculties to be completely unappreciative of it. She didn’t know how she was able to retain all her previous knowledge and her former identity, since as far as she knew, she shouldn’t even have object permanence. But somehow she was present for every single humiliating bit of childhood, from the lack of bladder control to the misery of teething.

 

If there was one thing she wasn’t going to put up with though, it was two people having sex while she was in the same room, especially when those two people were supposed to be her new parents. Himiko normally avoided crying because she was pretty sure no one deserved the singularly unique punishment of a wailing baby, but she was starting to find interrupting the pair of teenagers pretty funny. It even got her what she wanted, which was to be very far away from Izuna and Kitashi while they had their alone time. No wonder babies cried so much.

 

In the morning, it wasn’t Izuna who came to retrieve her from Madara, but Kitashi. Himiko didn’t bother trying to parse Madara’s low tones; there were only so many things he was probably telling her mother, and Himiko hated Japanese contractions and male patterned speech with the passion of a thousand suns. Well, more like a hundred. She’d save the thousand sun hatred for things like academic translations, esoteric kanji, and Classical Japanese.

 

Kitashi scooped Himiko up into her arms, her short, pin straight hair swinging just above Himiko’s reach. “Madara says you were good for him, Hime-chan. Why can’t you be quiet for your father and I, hmm?” Kitashi bounced her slightly.

 

Himiko thought about ignoring her, the way she had for several weeks after her birth, before she remembered Kitashi’s worries about being a mother. With an inward sigh, Himiko cooed at her and opened her mouth in what she hoped was an approximation of a smile.

 

Kitashi beamed at her. “Well, at least you’re a good baby the rest of the time. We’ll just have you spend more time with your Uncle Madara, how’s that?”

 

Anything to get away from sex happening right before her eyes. And, honestly, Himiko thought she could spend the rest of her life enjoying the strangeness of Uchiha Madara, one of the fiercest and most talented shinobi to have ever lived, doing something so mundane as paperwork. It was better than the alternative she was imagining, where she trained to become a shinobi and took missions and fought until someone killed her and left her body in a ditch somewhere.

 

Kitashi spoke with Madara a few moments more about something that Himiko allowed to pass over her head. She might have felt bad about not trying harder to decipher their conversation, except that even the passive listening to a language allowed for some form of acquisition. Thank god Himiko had studied child language acquisition before she kicked the bucket. Not that her interest in linguistics and foreign languages was going to serve her well in her new life.

 

Himiko gummed on Kitashi’s folded collar, drooling all over the cloth with petty delight. The woman didn’t outwardly react, so Himiko wasn’t sure how she actually felt about the behavior, but it made Himiko feel better. Eventually, Kitashi left Madara to do whatever business she had that day, which turned out to be what Himiko felt was the shinobi equivalent of a stitch and bitch session. 

 

Kitashi regularly met with a group of women that she had once told her were Himiko’s aunts. There was Wakana, who was some kind of poisons and antidote specialist, and a new mother herself. Her son, Himiko had been surprised to find out, was Kagami, the future ancestor to Shisui. Or maybe he was Shisui’s father. There had been conflicting canon information about that, Himiko recalled. Either way, Kitashi often plopped Himiko down with Kagami and expected them to play together or something. Not that Himiko did much playing at less than a year old. 

 

The other women included Tomoe, who seemed to draw all the explosive and storage seals that the clan needed. Himiko thought that was quite a bit of work for a single person. Surely copying seals could be done by more than one person, especially in a clan that had a doujutsu that could literally copy writing. And then finally there was Mameha, one of the blacksmiths of the Uchiha. Himiko assumed she was not only talented at it but creative as well; Mameha had designed her own prosthetic leg out of some kind of complex mechanism that shifted with her weight and gave her a gait that, to Himiko’s untrained eyes, looked the same as anyone else’s. 

 

If they weren’t bringing along something related to their personal skills to work on, then they were bringing the armor and weaponry of their individual families for basic maintenance, or clothing to hem and sew. Today, Kitashi had brought along not only her kit but what Himiko already recognized as Izuna’s as well. Himiko still hadn’t divined what exactly Kitashi’s role in the clan was beyond “murder people for money”. Surely being Izuna’s wife meant she had some greater responsibility. So far, if she wasn’t away on a mission, she was home taking care of Himiko and making sure their household didn’t fall apart around Izuna and Madara’s ears. 

 

When Kitashi arrived to the designated meeting place, everyone else was already present. 

 

“You’re late,” Mameha said. Her deft fingers were already at work sharpening kunai. The scrolls next to her suggested she had quite a workload. 

 

“I had to pick up Hime-chan from Madara. She’s been getting fussy with us at night, so Izuna thought the change might get her to settle,” Kitashi replied. Himiko would’ve snorted if she could. What a way of saying that he wanted to have sex with her without a crying baby in the room. 

 

“How strange.” Wakana had sewing out today. She was watching Kagami not at all, instead letting him crawl freely about the room. “Kagami-chan has finally stopped crying at every little thing. I wonder what it is that’s making Himiko-chan cry.” 

 

Kitashi settled Himiko down on the floor next to her seat cushion at the table. Himiko looked over to Kagami, who was excitedly crawling after a ball. She was definitely not doing that. She had some standards still. Instead, Himiko looked across the table as best as she was able. 

 

Kitashi sat next to Tomoe, which meant that Himiko had a perfect view of the explosive seals she was painstakingly drawing, over and over again. Himiko grabbed her ankles to hold herself upright as she watched. The character was vaguely familiar to Himiko, but highly stylized in a way she wasn’t used to. She supposed she should consider herself lucky that it wasn’t written in some medieval or classical version of Japanese. 

 

Tomoe didn’t even glance at her. “I don’t have time to play with you, Himiko-chan, and if you get into my ink, I won’t be pleased.” 

 

“Does she even understand that many words yet?” Mameha asked. 

 

“She’ll understand she’s being told ‘no’,” Wakana said. “Himiko-chan, go play with Kagami-chan. You’re not old enough to help us yet.” As she spoke, Wakana stood, likely to pull Himiko away from the table. 

 

“Nonsense Wakana-chan, Hime-chan knows how to behave. She won’t be a bother.” Kitashi smoothed down one of the stubborn spikes of hair that Himiko had already developed. 

 

Mameha snorted. “She’s Izuna’s child, she won’t be anything but a bother. A sly, sneaky little bother.” 

 

Himiko ignored them in favor of continuing to watch Tomoe work. It took her no time at all to draw each seal, and no matter how much Himiko strained her eyes, she could not divine the method Tomoe used to imbue them with explosive power. Did the user push their own chakra into the paper? Was there chakra in the ink? It was a mystery. When she was done, she released a controlled breath across the paper, causing heat waves to shimmer in the air. After the ink was dry from her breathing, Tomoe set aside in a neat stack to start the next. It was completely fascinating to Himiko. 

 

“Look, she just wants to watch, see?” Kitashi leaned down by Himiko’s ear. “If you’re going to be up here, you have to stay out of the way, okay? Tomoe-chan is doing important work for the clan, so don’t pester her.” 

 

Himiko babbled something back in response. It didn’t matter how much she understood if she couldn’t get her tongue and jaw to move just so to form coherent syllables, and for that she needed to practice speaking. For now, she was more or less limited to reduplicated syllables consisting of vowels and some labial consonants. At least her linguistic systems were developing normally. 

 

Either way, it was good enough for Kitashi. She pulled out some weaponry from one of the two kits she brought with her and got to work maintaining them. As she settled in, the conversation started up once more. Some of it was gossip about various clan members, some of whom Himiko knew of and many more she didn’t. Some of it was the kind of giggling that Himiko was familiar with from her previous life. And then some of it was distinctly shinobi in nature. 

 

“More and more Igasaki have been pushing through River Country, fleeing from Wind,” Tomoe murmured while she worked. “Hikaku told me.” 

 

“So it’s true then, the Siege of Okayama was successful.” Wakana frowned into her sewing. 

 

Kitashi shrugged. “As long as they don’t enter Uchiha territory in Fire Country, it’s not a problem.” 

 

Wakana looked up at that, giving Kitashi a dry look. “You know they won’t do that. They’ll probably try that trick they did at Mikatagahara, the one where they walk in and try to destroy everything from the inside out. Not a bad tactic for a small clan.” 

 

“A tactic that won’t work on us,” Kitashi countered smoothly. “If they try to attack us, we’ll eliminate them. If they’re that desperate, they can join us as a vassal clan.” 

 

“Unlikely; we’re already getting word from patrols that they’re hostile. They’re running scared, and it’s making them stupid,” Mameha said.

 

“Have order requests gone up? They have for explosive notes,” Tomoe said to Mameha. 

 

“Tch, of course they have. We’re going to need another run for more steel. And we need to train our squads to stop being so damn wasteful, or at least pick over the corpses better; we can’t keep up with demand,” Mameha replied. 

 

Tomoe gave Mameha a reproving look, but Himiko was distracted from her response when something nudged her in the back. It took a bit of wiggling and undignified rolling, but Himiko turned around to see Kagami and the red ball. She heaved a sigh internally. With clumsy hands, she grasped the ball and threw it less than gracefully. Kagami didn’t seem to mind, and went off chasing after it again.

 

It wasn’t long before he returned, ready to engage her again. Himiko rolled the ball to him this time. It wasn’t as if she completely followed the conversation anyway; too many words she didn’t know and her brain was tired from the constant processing. As long as Kagami didn’t expect her to go crawling after the ball like an actual baby, Himiko could think of it like playing a very modified version of catch.

 

Soon enough, the two of them were listing to the side. Neither of them could keep themselves from yawning. Not for the first time, Himiko cursed her infancy. She was contemplating going to sleep against Kitashi when the door slid open. 

 

Himiko rolled around to spy Izuna standing in the doorway, a young boy peering around his legs. Himiko recognized him as Setsuna, an orphan that Izuna was mentoring. His face was flush with emotion and exertion. Izuna nudged him inside and slid the door shut behind them when they had cleared the way. 

 

“Go away, we’re busy,” Mameha said flatly. 

 

“Charming as always, Mameha,” Izuna replied. “Don’t worry, I’m not here for you. We’ll be quick, Setsuna just has something to ask Kitashi.” 

 

“What is it, Setsuna-kun?” Kitashi prompted, a smile starting to play around her mouth. Setsuna shuffled forward, but then seemed to draw on some source of confidence and tilted his chin up and pulled his shoulders back. It would’ve been more impressive if it hadn’t been so obvious and exaggerated. Instead, he just looked funny. 

 

“Kitashi-sama,” he started. “Under Izuna-sama’s mentorship, I was able to master Goukakyuu to the satisfaction of our clan head, Madara-sama.” Setsuna swallowed. Himiko blinked open her eyes a little wider, impressed. Wasn’t Goukakyuu supposed to be a C rank ninjutsu? 

 

Setsuna continued on. “But I am still not yet a full shinobi of the Uchiha clan. If it pleases Kitashi-sama, would you do me the great favor of leading my first mission and allowing me to demonstrate my ability, so that I may join our ranks and defend the clan?” His words were slightly stilted and formal. It was probably a ceremonial phrase rather than something he came up with himself. 

 

“Is that so?” Kitashi hummed. “You think you’re ready to become a full shinobi of the Uchiha?” 

 

Setsuna blinked, clearly not expecting Kitashi to hedge her answer. “Yes? I mean, yes, I do, Kitashi-sama.” 

 

“And why should Kitashi waste her time on a brat like you?” Mameha scowled at Setsuna. He puffed himself up in preparation for some retort when Tomoe interjected. 

 

“Surely Izuna-sama wouldn’t have brought him here if he didn’t think Setsuna-kun was ready.” 

 

As Setsuna’s eyes drifted from Mameha to Tomoe, Mameha’s scowl dropped into a grin. So she was hazing him, Himiko thought. Even asking for a mission leader was a test. 

 

“That’s right, Tomoe-oneesan. If Izuna-sama thinks I’m ready, then I must be,” Setsuna said, recovered from the unexpected exchange. 

 

Mameha scoffed. “Izuna-sama, Izuna-sama, is that all you care about? Show some independent thinking, boy.” 

 

Izuna leaned against the wall as Setsuna visibly struggled to come up with an answer to Mameha. He seemed content to let the boy flounder on his own. Himiko couldn’t tell if that was because Izuna was confident that Kitashi would say yes or because he just wasn’t supposed to interfere at all. 

 

She squinted her eyes at Izuna while the others continued to talk around her. At this age, with his face structure still changing in subtle ways, he could still pass as Madara’s twin, were it not for his fuller lips and Madara’s heavy eyes. She didn’t think either of them had the Mangekyou yet, but then, there was no reason for either of them to show off that particular trump card in front of her. Himiko still couldn’t believe she had gotten stuck in the  _ Uchiha clan _ of all clans, in all eras, of Naruto.  _ Bullshit _ . 

 

Izuna seemed to notice her regard at last. “What is it, Himiko-chan? You look grumpy again.” 

 

“She’s been playing with Kagami-chan,” Kitashi said, breaking out of the exchange with Setsuna and her peers. “She’s probably tired.” 

 

“Is she still drooling everywhere?” he asked. Without waiting for a reply, he bent down and scooped up Himiko. She answered for Kitashi by immediately biting down on his collar. Above her head, Izuna sighed. 

 

Kitashi returned to the conversation at hand. “That’s enough, Mameha, I’ve come to my decision.” 

 

Setsuna fixed his eyes on Kitashi. The serious mien he had been trying to adopt fell away and his expression became hopeful. A little boy who couldn’t wait to become a man via murder, Himiko thought with disgust. 

 

“I will lead your first mission, but I’ll be deciding what mission you take. And a successful mission won’t necessarily mean I’ll allow you to become a fully fledged shinobi.” Kitashi narrowed her eyes. “You’ll have to impress me.” 

 

Setsuna bowed, almost falling over in his excitement. “I understand, Kitashi-sama! I won’t disappoint you!”

 

Izuna deposited Himiko back on the floor next to Kitashi. “You’d best not, or you’ll have me to deal with. Let’s go Setsuna, before Mameha tries to set us on fire for interrupting their work.” 

 

Mameha snorted but had already gone back to her weapons sharpening and polishing. Himiko rolled closer to Kitashi when it became clear that none of the adults were interested in interacting with her again. Good. She wanted more sleep. She dozed off watching Tomoe create more seals, the rasp of weaponry and feminine giggling in her ears. 

 

* * *

Apparently, the  mission Kitashi wanted for Setsuna hadn’t come yet. It had been two weeks since that encounter and Kitashi remained at home. Himiko spent her nights with Madara now, tucked up against his side with his hair well within her reach. It gave her no small amount of joy to tangle her fingers in it and listen to him curse in the morning as he tried to free himself from her grip. 

 

Setsuna drifted in and out, dropping by daily in the hopes that Kitashi would inform him that tomorrow would be the day that they would go on his first mission. Neither Izuna nor Kitashi dissuaded him, and both seemed to be amused by him instead. Other clan members also came and went, disappearing for days or weeks at a time on missions, checking in with Izuna or Madara, with some occasionally deigning to speak to her. Most did not, and so the majority of Himiko’s input came from Kitashi, Izuna, and Madara. 

 

During one such day, it occurred to Himiko that it was probably useful. After all, even though she had no intentions of becoming a shinobi, the related vocabulary was no doubt going to be useful for her. And so she dutifully listened to Kitashi’s sing song voice that recited macabre words during their games. 

 

“There are eight points, Hime-chan,” Kitashi began. “And they go like this: Larynx!” Here Kitashi tickled at Himiko’s throat until she giggled reflexively, trying ineffectually to bat away her mother’s fingers. 

 

“Spine! Lungs! Liver!” Kitashi’s hands darted to Himiko’s back, to her chest, and then to her stomach. Himiko chased them all the while, trying to protect her sensitive skin. 

 

Too late, Kitashi was on the move again. “Jugular! Subclavian artery! Kidneys! Heart!” The tickling continued, with Kitashi starting a new list of vulnerable parts of the body and pointing them out on Himiko in turn. Himiko’s laughter rose into a shriek as her mother continued. 

 

“Mama!” she shouted, in lieu of being able to tell her to stop. Kitashi froze all the same. 

 

“What was that, Hime-chan?” 

 

Himiko kicked her legs, glad for the tickling to be over. “Mama,” she repeated. 

 

Kitashi’s dark eyes became glassy, and then, to Himiko’s shock, the black faded into bright crimson, and suddenly her mother’s Sharingan was staring down at her. 

 

“Oh, I love you so much.” Kitashi scooped her up to hold her close to her chest. Her pulse thumped slow but clear, the sound comforting to Himiko. 

 

“Mama,” Himiko said again. 

 

“I have to show Izuna. He’ll be so proud of you. Let’s go show your father what you can do, okay?” Kitashi stood from where she had been kneeling on the floor. 

 

Himiko was proud of herself. This was the first comprehensible thing she had ever managed to say in this tiny body, and for a baby, it was fairly complex. She couldn’t wait for her mouth to finish catching up to her mental lexicon. After that, she groused to herself, she would have to work on controlling her bladder. 

 

Kitashi raced through the halls to Madara’s office. Inside, Izuna and Madara were bowed low over some paperwork of some kind or another. She didn’t even bother to announce herself. She just swept inside and settled down next to Izuna. 

 

“Izuna, you have to listen to this,” she said breathlessly. Kitashi set Himiko down on the table, uncaring if the papers were wrinkled beneath her form. 

 

“Hime-chan, who am I?” Kitashi leaned forward eagerly. 

 

Himiko smiled, finding Kitashi’s excitement infectious. “Mama!” 

 

Kitashi dropped kisses all over Himiko’s face. She sneezed when her mother’s face tickled her nose. “You’re such a good girl. I’m so proud of you.”  She turned to Izuna. 

 

“She can talk now! We were playing and she called me mama.” Kitashi took Himiko in hand again, angling her towards Izuna. 

 

“Do you know who this is?” Kitashi asked. 

 

Himiko took note of the Sharingan in Izuna and Madara’s eyes. Was this because of the emotion of the moment, or because they wanted to memorize this moment with their doujutsu? Either way, it was intimidating to be stared at by red eyes. It just wasn’t natural. At least there was no Mangekyou peering at her, but a standard, fully mature Sharingan. 

 

After a sufficient pause, where Himiko fumbled with her tongue in her mouth, she said, “Dada.” 

 

“No way,” Izuna breathed. Himiko reached for him. What an idiot, she thought, feeling a little fond. There was no way he had mistaken what she had said. 

 

“Dada,” she said. With a little effort, she waved her fist at Madara. “Grandpa.” 

 

“Excuse me,” Madara’s voice came out affronted. “I am  _ not _ your grandfather.” 

 

Himiko grimaced. She hoped she would figure out this vowel thing sooner rather than later. And pitch-accent. And contractions. And...there were so many things she needed to work on. She tried again. 

 

“Uncle. Mama. Dada.” Pleased with herself, Himiko repeated herself a few more times for practice before lapsing into silence. That was good enough for now, and she was getting both hungry and tired. 

 

Kitashi kissed her head and then brushed back her hair with her fingers. “Our baby can talk now, Izuna.” 

 

He nodded, his face slightly slack. People could get awfully dumb about their kids, Himiko thought. Babies spoke sooner or later, provided they had enough input and interaction. It wasn’t something to be struck dumb by. Himiko let herself fall backward. Maybe she would eat when she woke up instead. Talking was hard work. 

 

* * *

It was only a few days later that Kitashi left. Himiko had watched with no small amount of fascination as the woman she knew as her mother turned into a capable young shinobi, her body armored and outfitted with any number of weapons. But the real shock had been, as Kitashi left Himiko in Wakana’s care, they had shared a passionate kiss. Himiko was mostly aware that Kitashi and Izuna had married for convenience, but she never would have guessed that her mother had a romance with Wakana. It explained why they spent so much time together. 

 

Wakana took over for Kitashi seamlessly. When Izuna was busy, Wakana tended to Himiko, toting her everywhere alongside Kagami. She doted on Himiko the same way she did her own son, and so it was no small chore for Himiko to coo and call her Aunt. Her babbles delighted Wakana into showing Koyane Himiko’s new found verbalness. 

 

It was only after Kitashi went on her mission with Setsuna that Himiko finally returned to sleeping with Izuna. With no wife, and presumably therefore no sex, Himiko had no reason to cry at night to spare her senses. She gave Izuna the same treatment she did Madara, helplessly tangling her hand in his long ponytail. Unlike his older brother, Izuna seemed charmed by it. 

 

On the fourth morning of Kitashi’s absence, a knock came at the door. Izuna finished shrugging into his day clothes before answering it, revealing Shinatsu, another member of the main house. 

 

“It’s a bit early, isn’t it, Shinatsu? Where’s Kitashi and the rest of the squad?” 

 

Shinatsu’s face drew into an expression that pulled oddly on the tattoos on his cheeks, giving him a foreboding atmosphere. “That’s why I’m here, Izuna. There’s no easy way to say this, you know that, but…”

 

“Spit it out,” Izuna snapped, his back already tense with anticipation and realization.

 

“It’s Kitashi. She didn’t make it.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The eight points Kitashi recites are from Zabuza’s opening monologue to Team 7 in the Wave arc. 
> 
> A note on Himiko’s developing speech: in my mind, what she’s actually saying is “kaa-chan” (Mama), which, for a baby, is very complicated. Babies typically say vowels first, then a set of consonants called “labial consonants”, basically, “m”, “p”, and “b”. “G” and “k” come later, and the “ch” sound even later than that. To string this all together as a comprehensible word, and not just repeated sounds “mamabobogaga” etc is very remarkable for a child less than twelve months. 
> 
> That said, in Japanese, the words for “grandpa” and “uncle” are very similar; “grandpa” is “jii-chan” with a long vowel, and un”uncle” is “ji-chan” with a short vowel. It’s a very common mistake for English speakers when studying Japanese to mix those up, because in English, long and short vowels are not used to distinguish two different words (what is known as minimal pairs. Compare “pat” and “bat”, where “p” and “b” are used to distinguish the two words). This is why Himiko accidentally calls Madara “grandpa” at first.


End file.
